


FanXing Drabbles (2013~2015)

by prinxing (ranithepirate)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21913147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranithepirate/pseuds/prinxing
Summary: A compilation of short FanXing fics I've written in the past that are between 1k-2.5k words each.1. “Crave” [R] || ~1.2k words || AU, Romance, Fluff, PWP || Yixing is insatiable.2. “Not So Nice” [R] || ~2k words || AU, Romance, Kris-having-lewd-thoughts || Wu Fan may be kind, but he can’t help but feel like a wolf in disguise.3. “Red” [R] || ~2k words || Prince x Pauper AU, Romance, Fluff (warning: disability + hints of consensual underage sex) || Yifan explains colors to Yixing, who has never seen them.4. "Down On Your Knees" [R] || ~1.1k words || Domestic AU, Romance, Kink fic (choking/gagging, restraint) || Yixing forgets something important and Yifan must teach him a lesson that he won't forget.
Relationships: Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	1. Crave

**Author's Note:**

> I'm moving my fics from tumblr onto Ao3. These were too short to post separately, so I decided to compile them. I wrote these fics many years ago, so keep in mind that both Kris and Lay were very different people back then and I wrote their personalities accordingly. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally written: December 16, 2013

Kris wakes up to a familiar weight on his chest and something soft and feathery tickling his nose.

Cracking open one tired eye, Kris squints blearily against the harsh sunlight pouring from the curtains. When he inhales he smells the sweet scent of Yixing intermingled with the heady aroma of sex, the dancer’s curly brunette hair brushing softly against his chin. Yixing’s bare skin is warm on top Kris’s broad chest, and his delicate fingernail traces the intricate tattoos on the elder’s bicep. He thinks he could watch Yixing’s dark eyelashes flutter forever, wondering if perhaps he’d fallen in love with an angel.

“What are you thinking about, Xing?” Kris finally murmurs, running a hand up Yixing’s smooth back, sliding towards his neck and feeling the younger man tremble on top of him from the contact. When Yixing looks up, Kris’s hand cups his soft cheek, barely resisting the urge to poke the cute dimple that winks up at him.

“Nothing important,” Yixing singsongs, plump pink lips pulled into a bright smile and half-moon eyes glittering brilliantly in the early sunshine. The smaller man stretches his neck to press a sweet kiss on the corner Kris’s jaw before adding, “Just that you’re too handsome for your own good.”

The model wasn’t one to deny his God-given bone structure, but complements from the smaller man were rare as they were, so Kris grins with his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, really?”

Yixing nods with a small smirk, and he has this look in his eyes that Kris has seen before. Humming affirmatively in response, Yixing straightens up to straddle the elder’s hips with his knees. The thin blankets slide off his body and pool behind him to reveal the smooth expanse of Yixing’s creamy white skin, leaving Kris’s mouth painfully dry at the sight of Yixing’s half-hard cock beginning to curve up towards his abdomen.

“I was also thinking about how I’d really like to ride your dick.”

The dancer says the lewd words with such a straight face, pretty mouth still stretched into an innocently dimpled smile that Kris is caught off guard, a low groan escaping his throat as Yixing grinds the plump globes of his ass against Kris’s groin. It doesn’t take much to get the older man hard, especially if had something to do with Yixing; the taller man still had trouble wrapping around his brain that his supposedly naïve childhood friend actually had such a large sexual appetite―an appetite whose daily diet required a large dose of Kris for every meal.

The younger man was still blessedly stretched from their escapades of the night before―it really couldn’t have been more than a couple hours ago―and Kris can barely keep his voice quiet every time the head of his dick dipped teasingly into Yixing’s entrance. He wants to close his eyes and simply enjoy the overwhelming sensations stimulating every nerve of his body, but he’d much rather watch the way the way the long column of Yixing’s pale throat is exposed as the brunette tips his head backwards, lips parting as a pink tongue slips out from between the swollen flesh to wet them.

Kris wonders how one man can be so painfully arousing, how the bruises on Yixing’s hips left by Kris’s strong hands stand out so beautifully against the white skin, how the hickeys and bite marks on his thighs and neck makes for a tantalizing show every time the younger so much as moves. Yixing must know how he makes Kris feel because he always uses it to his advantage, uses them to get what he wants because Kris can never say no to him–and all Yixing ever seems to want is Kris, Kris, _Kris_.

Kris’s thoughts are broken when his hips stutter on accident from Yixing’s steady grinding, his cock slipping into the younger man’s clenching heat with a practiced ease. Yixing moans so loud that Kris wonders if the neighbors can hear him, if they would see Yixing later in the day and wonder if it really was this same charming man who was begging to be fucked last night. The very thought that people would see Yixing and know what a whore he was for Kris makes the model’s erection twitch, and the elder watches with rapt attention as Yixing sinks down on his hard length, mouth open as he ogles the way the dancer’s hole clenches around him―he’s still so loose and wet from when Kris had fucked him earlier that the sight is enough to make him want to cum.

“Don’t move,” Yixing suddenly gasps out, rotating his hips and dragging out a ragged moan from Kris. “I want to do this myself.” So the model lets him, large hands resting on the smaller man’s thin waist when he lifts his body, thighs trembling as he sinks down again. Not moving proves to be a lot harder than Kris originally thinks, but he holds out and allows Yixing to do as he pleases, bouncing with a steady rhythm on Kris’s cock. The pace isn’t hasty but it’s not gentle either, the perfect speed to drive them increasingly eager as a burning heat coils tight in their stomachs.

It is Yixing who cums first, Kris’s cock hitting his prostate dead on one too many times and pushing him over the edge as a low moan escapes his lips. The elder flips them over, spreading Yixing’s pale thighs wide open and practically folding the dancer in half as he fucks into his pliant body; it’s not long until he comes undone as well, cock pulsing as he climaxes. Yixing whimpers when Kris pulls out, lower body highly sensitized, and he feels Kris’s cum oozing down his thighs. He curls up into the elder’s side, burrowing into his warmth as he regains his breathing.

“I don’t think this was a good idea,” he finally murmurs into the model’s sweaty skin, and Kris glances down at him curiously. “Because now I’m sleepy and sore and I still have to teach the dance class for four hours at the studio.”

Kris just laughs, pulling Yixing’s body on top of his to give him a bone-crushing hug. He kisses the younger man’s cheek, ignoring the pout and kissing the dimple pressing into his soft skin. “This was your idea, Xing,” he murmurs, still planting kisses against Yixing’s face. Yixing wrinkles his nose but doesn’t pull away; instead he waits for his boyfriend’s wandering lips to finally reach his mouth before they exchange a long kiss, and Kris thinks he would kiss his boyfriend forever if he could.

Exhaustion slows the pair down, and just as Kris feels sleep begin to close his eyelids, he hears the dancer sleepily mutter, “Maybe I should just skip work so we can fuck some more…”

“You’re insatiable,” the elder groans.

And it certainly didn’t help that he only craved Kris.


	2. Not So Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally written: December 31, 2013

“Thank you, ge,” Yixing says shyly, deep dimple pressing cutely into his right cheek as he looks down at his shuffling feet. Wu Fan doesn’t miss the pink dusting across the bridge of Yixing’s nose, pearly white teeth digging into his plump lower lip before glancing coyly up at the taller man. “You’re always there to save me from these things.”

“It’s no problem,” Wu Fan replies, clearing his throat awkwardly. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say given that he just saved Yixing’s ass from being groped _again_ on the bus they rode home together every day. Wu Fan had to admit that it really was a great ass―pert and round and practically in your face because of how tight Yixing’s dance nylons were; the thin black cloth was practically painted over his shapely thighs, accentuating the virtually illegal dips and curves of his ass. Wu Fan had caught himself staring on multiple occasions, completely fascinated and struck with a raw sense of desire that he was ashamed to feel. The uncomfortable heat prickling the back of the older man’s neck was due to undeniable boner he had for the dancer pressing against the crotch of his office pants.

“But you really are so kind. I’m always too absent-minded to do anything about it,” Yixing insists, having the decency to look guilty as they get off the bus. “I mean, if you weren’t always taking me home, somebody would probably have had their way with me in some dark alleyway by now.”

Wu Fan wants to deny this, but he can’t because the younger man was absolutely right. Yixing gave off the impression of needing to be taken advantage of, like he needed to be utterly destroyed and ravaged until there was nothing left of him. Wu Fan had woken up panting countless nights before after vividly imagining the dancer’s lithe body squirming underneath his, pale thighs spread open wide as he threw his head back and moaned loud and broken, hickeys sucked into his sweet skin and lips swollen from kisses, body and mind completely and utterly debauched. If the straight-laced and stoic Wu Fan felt this way on an almost nightly basis, then there was no doubt that other men and women who also laid eyes on Yixing had the same explicitly dirty thoughts. Yixing has been felt up before and Wu Fan has always been fortunate enough to save him before things got really bad.

However, there was only one, tiny little problem.

“I can always count on you to protect me,” Yixing says with a small smile, pretty, brown half-moon eyes shining with naïveté and blamelessness. The dimple was still there and Wu Fan just barely resisted grabbing Yixing’s pale arms hard enough to bruise and dragging the smaller man closer to him in order to lick a wet stripe up the absurdly tempting pale column of his neck, just to hear Yixing whimper Wu Fan’s name. “I always feel so safe with you.”

Guilt makes Wu Fan heat up, shirt sticking uncomfortably to the film of sweat on his back as he shifts his shoulders uneasily. If anything, Wu Fan was just as bad as everyone else. He wasn’t any different from the people who wanted to pin Yixing to the nearest surface and fuck his slender frame until he was screaming, tears streaming down his eyes and drool dripping down his chin, completely taken over by pleasure coursing through his body. Wu Fan wanted to see those innocent eyes look ashamed from the pure, filthy desire that glowed behind them; he wanted to see his pureness utterly wrecked, wanted to hear Yixing beg for Wu Fan’s thick cock to fill him like a drowning man begging God for air.

Wu Fan constantly wanted to do the most obscenely lewd things to Yixing every time he saw him; around him, Yixing was as far from safe as he could ever be.

“I’m really not that great,” Wu Fan tries to explain, at the same time not wanting to expose his indecent thoughts. Although he wanted Yixing so badly that it physically hurt, Wu Fan would never touch a single hair on the younger man, not without his consent; Wu Fan’s thoughts may make him feel like less of a gentleman, but was no barbarian. “I’m just doing my job as your friend.”

Yixing smiles beautifully again, and Wu Fan’s heart stutters dangerously in his chest. “It doesn’t make me any less grateful. You pick me up from the studio at everyday, even if it means waiting fifteen minutes or more. You even take me home.”

“It’s really no hassle, my work is only five minutes away,” Wu Fan mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand awkwardly. “And I live in the apartment next to yours.”

The dancer huffs in response, frowning up at the older man when they reach the elevators of their apartment building. “Just accept my thanks, Fan ge!” he grumbles, punching in their floor number indignantly. “Why can’t you ever let me be thankful for anything that you do?”

Wu Fan’s face colors as he looks everywhere but at Yixing’s eyes. “I don’t deserve your thanks,” the taller man finally admits. _Especially not now_ , he thinks, _not when I’m imagining me cornering you in this elevator and feeling you up aggressively enough to make you blush, hoping that the doors will open and someone will catch you whining my name like a whore_.

The younger man just looks confused, pouting when the elevator dings as they reach their floor. Wu Fan sighs with relief when he sees his apartment door, grateful to finally be away from Yixing and his distressing thoughts. He really hates it when Yixing wears those low-cut tank tops that dip so far down his chest that it leaves nothing to the imagination, miles of exposed pale chest leaving Wu Fan breathless.

Yixing was dangerous―very, very dangerous.

He has his hand on the door knob when Yixing’s voice pipes up behind him. “Fan ge, come over for tea. I want to treat you for saving me.”

Wu Fan is screaming on the inside, distress practically dripping down his face in the form of sweat. “I-I really shouldn’t,” he begins, hand shaking has he grips the door handle tighter. _I don’t know what I’ll end up doing to you if we’re alone any longer_.

Yixing’s hand is ice cold when it curls around Wu Fan’s wrist, dainty fingers brushing over his pulse and making the elder shudder. “You have to. It’s the least I can do if you’re not taking my thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Wu Fan proclaims hoarsely, even as he’s being dragged into Yixing’s apartment, giving up on life. His balls are going to shrivel up and die from the sexual frustration coursing through his veins. “Now please let me go home.”

Yixing ignores him in favor of pushing Wu Fan onto the soft couch, smiling charmingly again, and the alarms go off in Wu Fan’s head, screaming _Danger, this is very dangerous!_ as noisily as possible. “Oh hush. Let me get you something to drink―Coffee? Tea? Juice? Water?”

Wu Fan swallows and it sounds louder than his own heartbeat, his mouth awfully dry, the thick lump of shame in his throat refusing to leave him alone. “Water, please,” he finally manages to croak out. When Yixing turns around with a bright grin, Wu Fan stares at the way his ass sways when he walks, and his dick twitches. Determinedly hiding the bulge in his pants with his button-down shirt, he wordlessly prays to every deity he can think of to ask for the strength to make it through another hour or so without doing anything incriminating to his neighbor.

When Yixing finally returns, the last thing the taller man expects is for the glass of water to be placed on the far corner of the coffee table just out of Wu Fan’s reach, as the dancer climbs onto his lap to straddle his thighs, arms wrapping around Wu Fan’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. Suddenly Wu Fan can’t breathe, the intoxicating smell of Yixing’s sweaty skin enveloping all of his senses, his large hands coming to rest hesitantly on the younger’s waist where he’s been dying to have them for months now.

“W-What are you doing?” he finally demands, breathing deeply through his mouth to keep himself from taking in any more of Yixing’s enticing scent; it proves to be futile endeavor, as Yixing’s delicious scent is heady and invades every orifice like a drug. Wu Fan’s entire body is extremely tensed up, ready for the impending eruption as he uses every ounce of self-restraint in his body to keep himself from reenacting all of the immoral thoughts he’s ever had of Yixing right then and there.

“Everyone wants to fuck me, and I know it,” Yixing mutters, biting his lower lip tantalizingly as he flattens his body against Wu Fan’s, their chests flush together. The older man can now feel the tent Yixing’s cock has pitched in his tights, the swelling pressing against Wu Fan’s abdomen insistently, and he realizes just how much Yixing wants this. “But it seems like everyone wants to fuck me, but you.”

“I―” Wu Fan tries to form coherent words, but the dancer cuts him off, thin fingers traveling up to curl in Wu Fan’s dark brown hair, tugging his face up so Yixing can look down at him angrily.

“I’m practically throwing myself at you every day!” the smaller man growls, taking Wu Fan’s lower lip between his teeth and biting. “I was purposefully rubbing my ass against your crotch on the bus the other day in hopes of getting a reaction out of you, but _you never do anything_!” Their lips finally drag together in an open-mouthed kiss, all tongue and no teeth, slick and hot when finally pull apart. Wu Fan can feel every ounce of frustration Yixing has in that kiss, from the way the younger man whimpers as he thrusts his aching dick against Wu Fan’s hard stomach, to the way he trembles when Wu Fan’s large hands slip under his top to caress the soft skin underneath. “Just please, _please_ fuck me,” he begs, moaning wantonly when Wu Fan’s hands move down to knead the dancer’s ass. “ _I need this._ ”

Wu Fan’s grip tightens when he stops and Yixing whines, voice high-pitched as he ruts against Wu Fan’s larger body. “I’m not as nice as you think I am,” he finally confesses. “I’m no better than anyone else. I always think about fucking you. Are you okay with knowing that?”

“Oh god, _yes_!” Yixing cries out, practically sobbing as he kisses the taller man again. He pecks his cheeks and his jaw and then nibbles at the elder’s earlobe, making Wu Fan groan deep in his chest. “I need this, I need you, _now_.”

That night the older man’s filthiest fantasies come true, Yixing’s legs spread wide and his asshole clenching obscenely around his cock, head thrown back as he moans Wu Fan’s name until kingdom come.


	3. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally written: August 23, 2014

“The sky is such a beautiful blue today,” Yifan’s warm voice rumbles in Yixing’s ears when he speaks, a deep tone that sends tremors up Yixing’s spine as the sound settles underneath his skin. Yixing is pressed up against his side, dark hair fanning out on the grass underneath his head as the both of them stare upwards.

“Tell me Fan, what is blue like?” Yixing wonders, blinking rapidly up at the endless sky that stretched so far beyond the horizon that Yixing couldn’t even begin to imagine it. He couldn’t see anything but black―it’s all he’s ever known, living in darkness no matter how wide he opened his unseeing eyes―but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious about the world, about objects and people and most of all, colors. Yixing’s always wanted to know more about the colors, but no one has quite given him a good enough answer just yet. He hopes Yifan can finally tell him, Yifan who is honest and kind and so utterly sweet that Yixing aches when they are apart.

“Blue is…” the older man begins, voice laced with a knowledge of things that lie far beyond Yixing’s own comprehension. Yixing has never known of anything beyond the breathtaking gardens of his family’s farm, his life beginning and ending with each of Yifan’s visits. The two of them are still so preciously young, Yifan a mere seventeen to Yixing’s sixteen, the elder of the two sneaking in past the castle walls to meet with Yixing in the gardens.

Their first meeting was an accident about a year ago, when Yifan’s cat jumped past the walls into the meadow near the castle, racing past them into the gardens, and Yifan had been daring enough to breech the rules and chase after it. He’d quite literally bumped into Yixing, and one look at the smaller man’s delicate features and silvery, blind eyes full of surprise, Yifan could no longer breathe without thinking of him for even a second. Now just over a year later of Yifan’s almost daily visits, they lay under the cover of surrounding hedges full of spring flowers, so colorful and green as brilliant yellow sunshine warms their skin. Yixing’s snowy skin is pure against Yifan’s, those thin, delicate fingers enveloped in thick, calloused ones, and Yifan never wants to let them go.

“Blue is like closing your eyes and hearing nothing but sweet silence,” Yifan finally continues. “Blue is the feeling you get when your heart beats in time with the breeze, when you wake up in bed feeling warm and cozy and content. Blue is… happiness. It’s light. It’s perfection and contentment and endless beauty all wrapped up in one.” Yifan looks over at Yixing whose expression is full of excitement, pretty pink lips parted in awe as a lone dimple makes itself known on Yixing’s smooth cheek.

 _Blue is you_ , Yifan thinks. He can’t bring himself to look away from the steady rise and fall of the younger man’s chest, of the way his closed eyes move to mimic blinking, how Yixing’s hand tightens it’s grip on Yifan’s. "I think I can imagine that,“ Yixing explains giddily, bright smile brilliant enough to rival the sun. "I can see the blue in the sky, Fan, I’m sure I can.”

Happy, Yifan smiles back, eyes focusing once more on the blue sky. In his other hand he holds a long-stemmed rose, and he wonders just how he can give it to Yixing without interrupting the peaceful bubble surrounding them. It’s strange for him to feel this indecisive; as crowned prince, Yifan has never really had trouble making decisions and seeing them through. He’d made the decision to follow the palace cat past the royal walls, and he’d made the decision to meet with Yixing every afternoon when the castle was at the quietest and no one was searching for him. He’d made the decision to not tell Yixing that he was a prince, that if the king knew of how Yifan snuck out whenever he had a chance to meet up with a blind farm boy of a poor family just to see that dimpled smile, it would be seen through that they never meet again.

Out of frustration, his grip tightens unconsciously on the stem and he pricks his palm along the thorns. Yelping, he sits up ramrod straight, holding his hand as blood trickled down his wrist. Yixing looks so worried when he presses even closer to Yifan’s side. “Fan?” he asks, fingers clenched in Yifan’s sleeve. “Fan, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the elder replies, wiping the blood on his dark trousers. “Just pricked myself on a rose.”

“Rose? Why’d you have a rose?” Yixing wonders, curious as he reaches for Yifan’s bleeding hand. Yifan watches as Yixing’s thin fingers run over the shallow cuts, a bit of blood transferring to his fingertips.

“To give to you,” Yifan admits after a few seconds, feeling a blush creep up his neck. He’s grateful that Yixing cannot see his embarrassment or else the younger would surely tease him. “I wanted to see you smile.”

Yixing’s grin immediately returns at those words, deep dimple making another appearance as he presses a lingering kiss to Yifan’s flushed cheek. “Well, I’m smiling now,” Yixing responds, cuddling closer. “You are okay, right? You’re not bleeding are you?”

“Just a little,” Yifan explains, “but only a little.”

Suddenly Yixing looks deep in thought, brows furrowing. “I hear that roses are the same color as blood.”

Yifan nods even though Yixing cannot see it, so he answers the question verbally as well. “Yes, they both are red.”

“Tell me about red, Fan.”

For a brief moment Yifan is stumped―red could be so many things at once―but the more he thinks about it, the surer he is of his words. “Red is passion. Red is intensity, it’s wanting something so much that you’d be willing to do whatever it took to get it. Red is when your heart pounds so hard that it feels as though it could come out, when you look at someone you love and know you could never feel the same way about anyone else again―it’s when you desire for something from the deepest part of your soul. Red is love and hate and joy and pleasure.”

“Pleasure…” Yixing murmurs, playing with the hem of Yifan’s sleeve. “Do you mean…?

Yifan’s blush intensifies. "Yes.” His pulse quickens when he notices the pink blooming across Yixing’s cheeks and Yifan is so afraid he’ll never see that beautiful color again that he grabs Yixing’s face with his hands, pulling the smaller man near enough that he can feel Yixing’s surprised, shaky breaths fanning over his skin. Yixing’s eyes are wide and bright now, one of the rare times that they are actually open, and it’s almost frightening with how much focus they are fixed on Yifan at the moment. They ask him for something that Yifan cannot bring himself to deny; he could never deny Yixing anything, and like always, Yifan complies.

He presses his mouth against those soft pink cheeks, on the tip of that cute nose, and across that smooth forehead before finally claiming those awfully tempting rosy lips like he’d been dying to do since the day they’d met. He kisses Yixing deep and thorough, tangling their tongues and tasting every sweet inch of Yixing’s hot, wet mouth that he could in the seconds before they part for air. He doesn’t even give the younger a proper chance to inhale oxygen before he’s diving back in for more, unable to get enough of the intoxicating flavor. Yixing smells like sunshine and flowers, so small and soft in Yifan’s arms, and god, Yifan was only seventeen but the way his pulse was racing, the way his heart felt so full just being together with Yixing like this, he knew he was so, so utterly, irrevocably, pathetically in love.

When they finally pull apart, both of them lightheaded and out of breath, Yifan can no longer hold his confession in any longer. “Yixing, I—”

“I know,” Yixing replies, fingers scrambling for purchase, panting as he pulls Yifan close enough to press their foreheads together. “I know because I do, too.” His eyes are clenched tight as he bites his swollen lip, now glistening and red from the passion of Yifan’s kiss, and he swallows thickly. “Fan,” he begins, voice shaking. “To me you are red. When I sleep at night, I dream of red. When I wake in the morning, all I see is red. When I hear your voice and ache to be touched by you, to be held in your arms, all I see and hear and feel is red, red, red, and I love you _so_ much that I can’t bear to be separated for even a second―”

Yifan cannot control the overwhelming urge kiss him again, cannot control the possessiveness that burns under his skin and coils deep in his gut, white-hot and fiery as he pushes Yixing down into the grass, presses his body into the ground and kisses him until he loses the ability to breathe. Yixing is gasping underneath him, body writhing as his arms wrap around Yifan’s neck and he’s so goddamn gorgeous and flawless as he hungrily inhales every kiss that Yifan crushes against his lips. He wants their limbs tangled together for eternity, for their bodies to be perfectly aligned just like this until the day they both die.

There is only red blooming underneath Yifan’s eyelids as they push further into the abyss of their love―a blinding crimson that captivates his heart and keeps it ensnared to Yixing’s. _If there is Yixing_ , Yifan thinks as he settles between Yixing’s invitingly spread legs, beautiful and slender pale thighs obscenely framing the pink ring that clenches eagerly around his length, swallowing him in greedily and drowning Yifan in all that is Yixing, _then I need nothing else_.

Nothing.

Nothing, but red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after Kris left EXO, and I remember being so devastated. I remember that it was very hard for me write this, but I missed fanxing so much that I had to make up my own interactions.


	4. Down On Your Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally written: May 17, 2015

“You forgot, didn’t you,” is all Yifan says when Yixing opens the door still in his pajamas, hair in disarray and looking like an absolute mess. Yixing’s jaw drops at the sight of Yifan dressed formally, a large bouquet of roses in his arms. The younger racks his brain for what event could possibly have slipped his mind this time but he doesn’t even know what the date was, let alone what they should be celebrating, so he doesn’t know what to say.

Surprisingly enough, Yifan doesn’t even look mad, almost as if he expected this to happen. He rolls his eyes with a tired sigh when he pushes past Yixing into the apartment, dropping the roses onto the couch and settling next to them. Yixing looks on guiltily from the doorway, watching as Yifan loosens his tie, and he bites nervously at his lip. “Is it bad that I don’t know what I forgot about?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because the elder stiffens immediately, fist clenching. “No, it’s fine,” he replies after a few minutes, voice strained and at the same time letting Yixing know that it definitely was _not_ fine. “It’s my fault for thinking that this was important to you, too. I shouldn’t have assumed that you’d remember, considering how often this actually happens.”

It finally hits Yixing right then – their anniversary. How could he have forgotten? He even marked it on his calendar! Now he feels ten times worse, face falling at the sight of Yifan’s controlled disappointment. Yixing closes the front door and quickly climbs onto Yifan’s lap, straddling his thighs and cupping the elder’s cheeks in his hands. “Hey, look, I’m sorry I forgot. Please don’t be mad,” Yixing begs, cuddling close to give him a hug. “Please, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do anything.”

Yifan still won’t look directly at him though, gaze fixed on the wall behind Yixing. After a few more minutes of Yixing kissing all over his face and apologizing like a kicked puppy, he finally gives an inch. “Anything?” he wonders, large hands fitting into the dip of Yixing’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest. Yixing nods rapidly with relief, licking his lips before pressing closer to kiss Yifan’s mouth. But even as he kisses him, Yifan shows no reaction, and Yixing whines when he pulls away. “I didn’t say you could kiss me.”

Yixing startles at the commanding tone in his voice, heart skipping a beat when he sees how dark and angry Yifan’s eyes are. Normally Yixing can’t stand negative emotions, hence the begging, but there was something different about the way Yifan was looking at him now, how hard his fingers were pressing into Yixing’s sides. “Oh,” Yixing breathes out in response, feeling too hot all of a sudden, sparks prickling down his spine and out to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“This is the fourth time you’ve forgotten something important to me, you know,” Yifan informs him casually, removing Yixing’s hands from his face. Yixing can’t look away from Yifan’s eyes for even a second as the elder crosses Yixing’s wrists behind his back, taking his tie and using it to secure them together. It’s tight but not _too_ tight, and the feeling of the silk pressing into his skin sends another flash of heat through his entire body, this time pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Normally I’d forgive you, but I don’t think I should this time.”

“I’m really sorry,” Yixing apologizes sincerely again, mouth dry because Yifan is still looking at him with that utterly dark gaze of his. When he swallows, Yifan’s eyes watch the way his throat moves, smirk lilting at the corner of his lips, and it makes Yixing’s heart stutter again. “Tell me how I can make it up to you,” he begs, licking his lips again. “Tell me and I’ll–”

“But I don’t want to,” the other responds coolly, cutting him off, tugging Yixing’s tank top up over his head so that it tangles in his arms, leaving him exposed to the cool air. Yifan is always so nice to him and the way he’s acting so cold, so _mean_ , even though Yixing knows how much Yifan loves him, makes him a lot more excited than he should probably be. “I’d rather just make you do it.”

“Yeah?” Yixing questions, heart racing and skin growing hot as Yifan rubs circles into his hipbones, thumbs dipping under the waistband. This time Yixing’s cock twitches in his sweats, and since he’s not wearing anything underneath, the growing bump is very obvious. Yifan’s smirk only widens.

“Yeah. And I think you know exactly what I want,” he murmurs, breath hot against Yixing’s ear, running a finger along his jaw and trailing down his now-heaving chest, before he’s suddenly pushing Yixing backwards. The younger yelps at the feeling of almost falling, unable to grab onto anything with his hands tied behind his back like this, but Yifan catches him with a low chuckle.

Before Yixing can even register what’s happening, Yifan is already manhandling him onto the floor, the loss of control making making the blood rush down to his cock. He’s settled snugly between the elders parted knees and Yixing blushes at the sight of Yifan’s crotch in his face, finally understanding what he was supposed to do.

When he looks up him, Yifan is still smirking back at Yixing. He pulls out his dick with his free hand, the other already fisted in Yixing’s dark hair before yanking him closer with a startled gasp. The head of his cock drags across Yixing’s cheek before pressing insistently against his slightly parted lips. Yixing can’t hold back his aroused whimper, opening up and allowing it to slip inside, the feeling of it heavy against his tongue. It’s dry and the friction makes him gag, but his hips still buck up, shamelessly hard in his sweats. He likes this too much and Yifan knows, eyes burning as he looks down at him.

“Suck it,” he snarls between his teeth, pulling Yixing closer and making his cock slide in that much deeper. Yixing chokes a little, eyes watering even as he moans with his mouth full. He begins bobbing his head desperately and letting his tongue run along the underside, mouth filling with saliva and the taste of Yifan’s cock. He feels it thickening in his mouth, growing in size as he hardens, and just the thought of how obscene he must look gagging on Yifan’s cock like this makes him wish he could jerk off, he’s so turned on.

If forgetting their anniversary makes Yifan act like this, then Yixing thinks that maybe he should forget it every year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written from a request.


	5. (info - end)

I wrote these fics between 2013~2015 and it's so crazy how much I have changed and how much FanXing have changed. Thank you for giving these a shot! I have more old FanXing fics that I'll be posting soon enough. I've always loved FanXing dearly, they were my EXO OTP for many years.


End file.
